I’ve been travelling again;
through the woods, along strange paths.
Bare earth and worn winding roots:
I squeeze through wire on wooden posts.
Crawling the convoluted stairways of the exhibition,
and wondering why I’ve three pairs of shoes,
but no socks.
Sussurations of smiling strangers
while my rucksack’s unpacked:
the captives run the system now.
Past the flimsy signal box
over miniature tracks long buried in mud,
my bare feet avoid the manure.